My Immortal
by crumpled horned snorkack
Summary: On that fateful night, Jane is murdered by Red John instead of his wife and child. Jane returns as a ghost to warn his family of the danger that they are in but Lisbon is the only person who can see him and agrees to help her supernatural fiend however things take a turn for the worst when she gets emotionally attached to a dead person and a family destined for tragedy. ADOPTED AU
1. Introduction

**Hi everyone, a little bit of an explanation about this fic.  
Before I had this account, I collaborated fics with my best friend Lily (pen name Sectumsempress) and posted them on her account with her. This story was her idea that we started and she last posted a little over a year ago. Since then her health has been compromised significantly and her recovery renders her unable to finish it one her own which she feels really terrible over so has asked me to edit it and update it to include some differences and write it with her. She is very apologetic to the fans that have been waiting for such a long time but is excited about the ideas we have for this pretty interesting AU and to see it finished. I'll update the edited chapters regularly until we get to where she finished and then we'll let the old readers know it's been updated on this account so they don't have to re-read the whole thing. Lily will probably delete or abandon her old account but merge her stories to this one as a collaborated account. Hopefully that clears up any confusion for people who have seen this one before.  
Thanks everyone and we hope you enjoy our AU fic and look forward to any feedback you may have.**

Lily and Ivy-Jean x


	2. Chapter One

"_Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas, they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is omnipresent. In this divine glass they see face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, because immortal"_

-William Penn

Prologue

All those months of effort, of heartbreak and anguish were in vain. My heart raced against my ribcage as the clock ticked closer to the end. The end of what? His life? Their life? Mine? Did it matter? Our lives were entangled now and the end of one would end us all. Could it really have been only a few months ago that I was dragged into this? It felt like my entire life was devoted to protecting someone who was beyond saving, not even real. And even as my efforts were wasted, my heart in tatters and I was surely going to die where I stood, I couldn't regret it. Because even though this path had lead me to my death, it had also lead me to him. To them. My family.  
I closed my eyes, focusing on what I anticipated to be my last breaths as a child screamed in the background.

000

"Daddy! Daddy!"

A four year old girl, his little girl, came tumbling into Patrick's arms clumsily knowing that he would catch her. Patrick automatically lifted her tiny body up, blonde curls bouncing, and whirled her around, while her legs gripped around his hips securely like a koala and giggled hysterically.

He buried his face into her blonde ringlets that smelt of children's no-tears strawberries and cream shampoo and of the hairspray his little girl had insisted was necessary for special events such as these.

"Hello, my strawberry," he said to Charlotte, rocking her back and forth.  
Charlotte pressed her tiny palms on either side of his face, her big brown eyes staring reproachfully into his green ones, and babbled so quickly with excitement and anxiousness that her words slurred together.

"Why was you so late Daddy?" she babbled barely comprehensible. Patrick couldn't help but feel guilty. The reason he was late was the same reason he was late to most things. His work. Tonight it had been a live talk show interview; the last one he ever did since he was aware of how quietly disapproving his wife was of it. Despite her wishes that he did something a little more honourable with his time and talents, she never faulted to be proud of him and support whatever he decided to do. With every quick kiss goodbye each morning he would be able to see the worry he was causing her behind her smile and each evening he would be half terrified to return home and find Angela had come to her senses and taken Charlotte and left, realising that they deserved better. But as usual, Angela would be waiting up in bed for him with one of her loving smiles to hear about his day.

"You said you was going to be here when the big hand was on the twelve and the little hand was on the seven but the big hand was on the two and I said to Mummy that I was scared you's was going to miss my dancing but she said that…."

He pressed his finger lightly to her lips. "Remember to breathe, baby."

Charlotte took a big, theatrically deep breath in and exhaled loudly for her father. He chuckled and put her down so he could get a good look at her.

Charlotte was dressed in her pink leotard with a frothy tulle skirt and ballet slippers. Her golden ringlets were tied into two pigtails on the side of her head and her red cheeks were flushed with exhilaration and her eyes were wide with excitement. His wife had done her make up for her, although according to Charlotte, she hadn't applied nearly enough.

She slipped her tiny hand into his and led him down the aisle of plastic chairs.  
"Will you sit with Mummy?" she asked softly. "Will you sit together? So when I'm dancing you can say to each other, "_Oh, that's our darling daughter. How proud we are_!"  
"Of course we will sit next to each other," Patrick laughed. "Why would you ask that, princess?"

She looked at him, her big eyes narrowed and she looked just like her mother.  
"I said for you not to say that to me no more, Daddy. I'm a big girl now. I don't want to be a princess. I want to be a nurse."  
He nodded apologetically. He had heard this many times before. Although, she was always going to be his little princess. Nurse or no nurse.

"And Mummy was sad with you today," she continued matter-of-factly while they walked hand in hand. "She didn't use her inside voice. And Mummy only uses her outside voice inside when someone's been bad or when the game is on. And the game wasn't on today so you must have been bad, Daddy!"

Patrick laughed lightly at Charlotte's deduction. She had definitely inherited his gift to piece things together. She was going to be so clever and his heart swelled even more with pride.

But truth be told, his wife had used her outside voice inside with him today which was usually against the rules.  
This morning, he had caught Charlotte drawing a picture of a butterfly with crayons on her bedroom wall, which was forbidden. But Charlotte was sure if they saw just how lovely her wall would look, they wouldn't get angry. That's why she had to draw them fast.

"No, Charlotte," Patrick said disapprovingly taking the crayon off of her. "The wing is shaped like this…."  
Angela came in and saw Patrick drawing butterflies on the wall.  
She used her outside voice with him.

"Welcome to West Malibu Kindergarten Talent Night," the announcer said on the stage as the lights dimmed.  
"Hurry, Daddy," Charlotte hissed pulling him along the row of plastic chairs.

Charlotte led Patrick by the hand to where his wife was sitting. Charlotte took her chair and patted the seat next to her and her mother.

"I saved this spot special for you, Daddy," she whispered, proudly. "I didn't take my hand off it until I saw you and when people walked past I said 'This seat it taken. It is reserved. My Daddy's sitting here, right next to my Mummy and me. He's going to be here when the big hand is on the…"  
"Shh, Charlotte," Angela whispered gently and then smiled at the husband.

"You're late," she said to him faking annoyance. "The big hand was on the two!"  
"Sorry," he whispered sitting next to her.  
He cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her gently, melting against her with exquisite relief. Even after nine years of marriage, kissing Angela after not seeing her for five hours was like sinking into a hot bath after being caught in the rain, like sliding under crisp cotton sheets after an exhausting day and then when they would break apart her face would light up with the most exulting, breathtaking smile he had ever seen. And he would fall in love with her all over again.

"Daddy!" Charlotte whined looking around to see if any of her friends had seen her parents kissing.  
Patrick chuckled lightly brushing his hand over his daughter's hair.

"Sorry, princess."  
"Daddy, how many times do I need to say it? I don't want to be a princess, anymore. I want to be a nurse. I told you a hundred million-"  
"Shh, Charlotte," Angela said putting a finger to her own lips.  
Charlotte sucked her lips in and balled her fists up tightly, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows in fierce determination as if it were a terrible strain for her to stay quiet.

The presenter's voice rang loudly across the audience. "Our first act of the night is Sophia Dela Cruz's performance of Celine Dion's '_My Heart Will Go On'_.

Polite applause welcomed on stage a little girl the same age as Sophia in a glittery sequined dress, her face plastered with stage make up ("See, Mummy!" Charlotte hissed quietly leaning across them to look at Angela reproachfully).

Little Sophia took the microphone in both hands and began to sing. Her voice was quivery with exaggerated emotion, making the audience flinch when she hit the high notes.  
She was followed by tap-dancing twins, a magic show and a gymnastic routine.

Finally, the presenter came out and announced: "Next up, Charlotte Jane performing a routine she choreographed herself called _The Butterfly_!"

Angela was suddenly terrified. Choreographed it herself? She had assumed Charlotte would be doing something she learned at her ballet lessons. Angela's stomach felt sickly with stage fright as if she were the one going up there.

"Hmm," Charlotte frowned, squirming on her seat with her tiny arms wrapped around her tummy.  
"Strawberry," Patrick said. "It's your turn now."

Charlotte looked at him, her chocolatey eyes wide and fearful. "I actually feel a bit sick."  
"All the best performers in the world feel sick, sweetie. It's a sign, it means you're going to be fantastic," Patrick said.

Angela looked at her daughter. Charlotte looked terrified and resembled her mother more than ever as a child. She suddenly felt the urge to scoop Charlotte up and run far away from those critical judges and scathing stage mums.

"You don't have to-" Angela began before Patrick touched her arm lightly.  
"The sick feeling will go away go away as soon as you start," he told her.

Charlotte looked at him with the most trusting look in her eyes.  
"Promise?" she whispered holding out her pinky finger.  
"Cross my heart and hope to be killed by a big fluffy bunny," he said curling his own finger around hers.  
Charlotte giggled and crawled across her parents laps. "You're so silly Daddy."

She marched down the aisle towards the stage, her tulle skirt bobbing in time with her pigtails.  
Angela's heart twisted. She was so little.  
"Have you seen this routine?" Patrick asked as he adjusted the focus on a tiny camera. He made a point to document every little event in their daughter's life. It was held together with masking tape after Angela punched it into his face in the delivery room. With the pay he got from the interview, he would be able to buy seventeen new cameras if he wished.  
"No, have you?" Angela asked hopefully.  
"No."

He held her hand with his free one reassuringly rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand as they watched Charlotte climb the stairs and adjust her skirt nervously.

Charlotte went to the middle of the stage. Her head was down and she had her arms wrapped around her tiny body. The music started and she slowly opened one eye and then the other. She yawned enormously, wriggled and squirmed. She was a caterpillar emerging sleepily from her cocoon. Charlotte looked over her shoulder, pretending to catch sight of her wings for the first time. Her mouth dropped comically and the audience laughed.

She looked over her other shoulder and staggered with delight. She was a butterfly! Charlotte fluttered this ways and that, trying out her new wings, falling over at first and then finally getting the hang of it. It was true, she wasn't always in time with the music and her dance moves were, well, quite unusual but her facial expressions were priceless.

Patrick was certain that there had never been a cuter performance of the butterfly.  
By the time the music had stopped, he was filled with pride. He stood up as he clapped the loudest and looked about the audience and saw that people were smiling and clapping, clearly charmed, although they were perhaps holding themselves back as to not make the other performers feel bad.

Charlotte came running towards her parents, her face flushed with delight.  
"Was I good?" she asked. "Was I excellent?"  
"You were the best," Patrick said. "Everybody is saying we may as well pack up and go home now that Charlotte Jane has performed."  
Charlotte giggled and was lifted into a hug.  
"Love you Daddy," she said resting her head on his shoulder.  
"Love you too, sweetie," he said though his voice was muffled by her fairy wings.

The other performances were finished and the children were running away joyously in their costumes while the parents looked on admiringly.

Angela was trapped in a conversation with Patrick's agent, Carmen Dela Cruz, whose children went to Kindergarten with Charlotte. She was patronising and critical and succeeded in making Angela feel like a substandard mother and wife.

"Oh, it was such a fantastic interview Angelina. You _should_ have been there," Carmen laughed exuberantly lightly resting her perfectly manicured talons on Patrick's jacket arm. "If it at least _appears _that Patrick has a supportive family, it would do wonders for his image."

Angela's eyes flashed fiercely and Patrick quickly interjected and tried to diffuse the situation. "You needn't worry about that, Carmen." Patrick put his arm around Angela's waist pulling her close in a loving matter but also as a good position to restrain her from killing his agent if need be. There had been many a close call.

"Oh, Patrick honey, you know how supportive I am of you working on your _marriage differences,_" Carmen whispered theatrically. "And of course, that should be your main priority. In the meantime, I'll look out for your professional wellbeing. God knows someone has to," she said jokingly and laughing in her flaky tone.

Patrick had to put his hands on either side of his wife's shoulders and spin her around and away from the conversation as he believed that her being arrested for murder would put a bit of a damper on the evening.  
"Come for a walk me with," he said taking Angela's hand and pulling her along.  
Angela looked to make sure that Charlotte was occupied playing with her friends.  
He led them outside where they could still hear the laughter and music quietly.

Angela was curious while she walked beside him, still holding his hand. There was definitely something he wanted to say as he was staring down at his feet kicking bits of gravel and uncharacteristically silent but still smiling. He led them both the edge of the car park. Angela dropped his hand and swung her legs over the log fence so she was sitting on it and looked down at all the lights of the coastline beneath the hill they were on.

Her eyes narrowed  
"I've been thinking about what you were saying," Patrick said finally leaning on his elbows beside her."About my job."

Angela turned to observe him with wide surprised eyes. This was usually a discussion topic he liked to avoid wherever possible with her. Where was this going? She had many things to say on his 'job' that she kept to herself. How deceptive and dangerous it was. The ridiculous hours involved and not to mention how ludicrous the idea was. She had swallowed her disapproval uneasily when she had found out about this ridiculous television interview about a serial killer. But he was her husband and she loved him. Even if it meant dealing with the ridiculous job descriptions, bitchy agents and terrible hairstyles. She was still so proud of everything he had achieved.

"I think you're right," he said stopping and turning to face her. "I've realised some things." "Wait, what?" Angela said cupping her ear. "What was that?"  
"I've realised some things?"  
"No, before that."  
"I think you're right?" Patrick said puzzled. "But what I mean, Angel…"  
"Shh," Angela said quickly closing her eyes concentrating. "I need to remember this moment. Patrick Jane telling me I'm right."  
He nudged her in the ribs and they both dissolved into quiet laughter.

"No, this was supposed to be a serious conversation," he said. "I wrote what I was going to say a thousand times." Patrick thumbed through many pieces of abused paper from his jacket pocket before giving up and stuffing them back.  
"Basically," he said sitting next to her and taking her hands. "I don't want to lose you.."  
He covered Angela's mouth with his hand as she opened it.

"I know what you're going to say but let me finish, Angel. I've loved you my whole life. You were my only purely good constant thing in my life, even as children, you just inspired me and everyone at the carnival really, to be better. Like you. You were the light of my…of all of our lives. I should feel guilty about taking you away from them so you could be happy and mine forever," he moved his hand from her mouth so he could rub his forehead. It still at times seemed surreal. Him and _Angela_ _Ruskin_. _Angela Jane. _  
"But I don't. You were different from us from the start. My shy, stage frightened, socially awkward, moralistic Angela. You were never a carnie. You were too good and beautiful to belong. That lifestyle was against everything you were and it was painful to watch. I promised that one day, I was going to take you somewhere far away, marry you if you would have someone like me and spend the rest of my life making you happy and giving you the life you deserved. But I can see now I've tried too hard and sort of become what we didn't want. I went too far, like I always have. I've made you unhappy and forced you to live with deceit and selfishness when that was what I was trying to pull you from. I'm sorry, I've made you so unhappy and I've been so selfish but I'm going to do better now, Angel. For you and Charlotte."

He took a deep breath. There was more, so much more he could say to her but she was probably battling an intracranial bruise keeping quiet for that long.  
Angela tried not to laugh at the uncharacteristically serious look on his face.  
"That was very moving," she said, biting her lip and trying to remain serious. "Incredibly profound."  
"I try," he shrugged and smiled.

She shuffled closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his arm. "You do make me happy, Paddy," Angela said. "You've always tried too hard to make me happy, even when we were children, when you never had to try to. You just _do_."  
"But you hate it. The money, the fame, the deception," he listed. "I can see it. It's everything you hated about the carnival. But I didn't think. I just wanted to give you everything you deserved and make up for everything you didn't have…"  
"Silly Patrick," Angela said messing his gelled hair back to its usual state. "You've given me you and a family and a normal life and I feel like an honest and good person now which is all that I wanted. I've got everything."  
"I know," he sighed. "I should have known better but I'm sorry. I didn't want you to have to work, but I know that's just you. I'll give it up, I promise. And I really mean it."  
"May I ask what brought this brilliant plan to mind?" Angela enquired.  
Patrick looked thoughtful.

"Basically, after working with all these murder cases…..I've seen just how quickly you can lose your family and I'm so lucky to have the most beautiful family in the world and I want to spend every minute with them."

She laughed and leaned her head against his chest and he complied by wrapping his arms around her.  
"Thank you," she said as he kissed her hair.  
"Ah!" she gasped nearly falling off the log, Patrick put his hands on her shoulders and steadied her.  
"What's wrong?"  
She put her hand to her stomach. "Nothing. It's gone now. Some kind of spasm, I think."

He still had concern in his eyes when she kissed him sweetly on the mouth.  
"We walked here. Do you want to go meet us by your car? I'll get Charlotte."  
"Okay," he smiled kissing her back. "I love you."  
"Love you too," she smiled and untangled their fingers so she could go get their daughter.

Patrick smiled and turned away throwing his keys in the air and catching them in his hand. He was looking forward to being a consultant or some sort of other profession that utilises his abilities rather than a psychic. It was different and he was certain he wouldn't get bored.

When he and Angela had started off, he had worked a number of tedious jobs and his longest was airport security. His keen eye and skill for human deception was very useful but it was boring, unchallenging not to mention it barely paid the bills. Angela was so bright and clever and Patrick dreamed of sending her to college. Unbeknownst to his Angel, he spent their last year at the carnival forging school applications, collecting brochures and stealing her manuscripts. After they ran away and married, Angela won a partial scholarship (to a school she didn't remember applying to) and did brilliantly in her first semester with ratty second hand books and whatever floor space she could muster to work on their apartment floor.

The first time he broke his promise and strayed to gambling and other old habits was because he needed to fill the new prescription of insulin to treat Angela's diabetes. When she found out, as she always did, she was upset and quit school feeling it was entirely her own fault Patrick had fallen back to his old ways. Angela had joined the police force at nineteen after they were married in some kind of misguided quest of righteousness to make up for all the wrong her people had done. The roles had been much reversed back then. Patrick waited up at night in their tiny apartment anxiously and disapprovingly knowing his small, vulnerable-looking wife, not even old enough to buy a beer, was possibly doing something very dangerous.

She was shot in the arm once and Patrick made sure that was the end of her law enforcing days and eventually she finished her degree. Psychic ability vs. science was always a topic of cheery banter and argument in the Jane household. She was right, of course, he knew. He just couldn't let her know that all the time.

But before he could give another further thought, a loud noise interrupted his thoughts. The sound knocked him against a car and made his ears ring as if an explosion had taken place inside his skull. Then he noticed the pain in his chest, spreading across his lungs. He looked down and was shocked to see red blossoming across his white shirt. A stain expanding each second.

He put his hand to it, shocked, and drew it back. Red sticky blood coating his fingertips.  
"I do not like to be slandered in the media, Mr Jane," a chilling voice said. Chilling but clear, concise and clever.

Red John.

This couldn't be happening. This sort of thing didn't happen to Patrick Jane. For the first time in his life, he was terrified. But surprisingly to even him, not of his death at the hands of a vicious serial killer in a public car park. That wasn't so bad. A shot to the chest, slash across the throat, suffocation…however this mad man planned on killing him would merely just end his life. But to destroy him was an entirely different thing. Especially when the two only things that could were only a small distance away. Perhaps walking to the car alone, in darkness and complete vulnerability. Oh, why didn't he let Angela become a police officer?

Please, please, please don't let them come outside, Patrick begged in his head. Not his two angels.  
"Lovely wife you have there," the voice said again. Poetic. Mocking. "Very beautiful. Does your daughter take after her? I surely hope so."  
NO!

000

"NO!" she yelled but the cold pavement she had been standing on disappeared beneath her feet and she was being sucked down a dark tube. Tiny dots of light danced before her eyes.

Was it a dream or a memory?  
"I don't know!" said a frightened voice. "I didn't see it happen!"

The dream or memory or whatever it was dissolved and vanished like a reflection on water and instead fragments of thought began to drift through her head as if she was waking up from a long, deep sleep.

That's when she noticed the pain in her head for the first time. It hurt on one side as if someone had given her a good solid thwack with a hammer.

It was so vivid, so clear. Yet, it was already vanishing from her mind. She remembered music, fairy wings and a gunshot. She hung on to the smell of strawberries, hairspray and blood but it faded away quickly.

"Her eyelids are twitching, like she's dreaming," a person said.  
"Lisbon? Are you okay? Please open your eyes."  
It was a man's voice. Too loud and strident to ignore. It dragged her up into consciousness and wouldn't let her go. It was a voice that gave her the feeling of a familiar annoying itch like too tight socks.

Did she faint? She had never fainted in her life although she had spent most of ninth grade practicing in the hope that she could be one of those lucky girls who fainted during church and had to be carried out, draped across the muscley arms of their PE teacher, Mr Potter.

"A man's been shot," she gurgled at the voice. She couldn't even understand her own words. "I saw a partial plate AA6, I think. You need to track down and…and..."  
"You're delirious," her boss Minelli said. "Don't try to sit up."

"You hit your head," Sam Bosco explained as she looked around. She seemed to be lying at the foot of some stairs. The stairs at the office. The CBI. Not a little kindergarten car park by the sea.

She recognised Bosco's wife, Mandy, looking concerned and stroked Lisbon's arm.

"Oh dear, sweetie, YOU MIGHT JUST BE A LITTLE BIT CONCUSSED!"  
"I don't think that makes her deaf," Minelli said gruffly before standing up to shoo away excited rookies who had been confined to their desks all day.

"I'll go get some towels for the blood," Bosco said standing up. "Mandy'll stay with you."  
Lisbon always felt guilty and awkward around Bosco's perfectly friendly wife, Mandy. With good reason. It's a lot easier to justify a previous affair with a married man if his wife wasn't a caring, loyal and warm woman.

"You lost your balance and fell down the stairs," she said in her chatty voice. "You smashed your head and it made the most awful sound. I'm so glad you're conscious, again. I had been worried about cerebral compression."

Lisbon vaguely remembered that Mrs. Bosco was a school nurse. Not the sort of medical professional she was comforted by but she probably wasn't completely stupid on the subject. Lisbon sat on the floor quietly as she usually did around the over friendly Amanda Bosco.  
Luckily, a rookie shouted out. "The ambulance is here!"

Mandy stayed kneeling on the floor next to Lisbon, patting her on the shoulder. Then she stopped patting.  
"Oh my, why do you get all the fun?"

Lisbon twisted her neck to see and saw two impossibly handsome men in green paramedic jumpsuits striding towards her.  
She immediately felt embarrassed and tried to right herself. Showing signs of weakness or vulnerability was a taboo to Lisbon especially when fighting for authority in a male dominant profession that demanded such qualities.

"Don't move, honey," the tall one called.  
"He looks just like Brad Pitt!" Mandy whispered excitedly. He did too.  
Lisbon couldn't help but feel cheerier. She felt like she had woken up in an episode of _Grey's Anatomy_.

"Hey!" Brad Pitt said cheerfully kneeling beside Lisbon. "What's your name?"  
"Amanda. Mandy," Mrs Bosco said blushing. "Oh, she's Agent Lisbon. Teresa Lisbon."  
"Had a bit of a fall did you, Teresa?"  
"So I've been told," she said.

Despite her rock solid expression, Lisbon felt secretly teary and special as she generally did when she talked to any health professional, even a chemist. She blamed her mother for making too much of a fuss when she was sick and as child. She and her brothers were terrible hypochondriacs because of it.

Her uncle died from a heart attack so she had always been frightened by the slightest case of heartburn. She had two grandparents die of cancer on both sides so she had been permanently on standby by waiting for the mutated cells to strike. For a while she was terrified she was about to be struck down by motor neurone disease, for no reason that the fact she had read a very moving article in the Readers Digest about a man who had it. She had first noticed the problem when her feet started hurting at her desk one day. So whenever she'd feel a twinge in her feet, she would think: _okay, here we go_.

She was a dreadful worrier too. Every day she would worry that her brother would be killed in a car accident, and contemplated every childhood disease that her niece and nephew could contract. Before she went to sleep she would worry that someone she loved would die in the night. Killed in a terrorist attack, maybe. "That means the terrorists have won," her brother, Matthew would say. He didn't understand that she was fighting off the terrorists by worrying about them. It was her own personal War on Terror.

But she was Agent Lisbon and was surrounded by colleagues; no tears would escape her eyes. She saw the paramedics set up a stretcher for her, it looked a little flimsy.

The CBI looked on grimly as Lisbon was loaded into the ambulance. Rookie's looked on with feverish excitement. She had never been more embarrassed in her entire life.  
"Do you remember what you had for breakfast this morning, Teresa?" Brad asked.  
_It's Lisbon_, she wanted to correct him automatically. She had been so used to being addressed by her surname for so many years.

"How is that relevant?" She was used to being the one asking the questions.  
"It's just one of those standard questions we ask people with head injuries. We're trying to ascertain your mental state."  
"Um…" she thought back, racking her brains but something else was on her mind. Screaming at her. But she couldn't remember what.

"That's okay," he answered. "I don't think I can remember what I had for breakfast myself."

Well, so much for ascertaining her mental state! Did Brad actually know what he was talking about?

"Maybe you've got a concussion too," Lisbon muttered and Brad laughed dutifully. He seemed to be losing interest in her. He was probably hoping that his next patient was more interesting and he could use those heart defibrillator things. Lisbon would if she were a paramedic.

Brad dabbed at her head with a cloth and drew it away. While it went past Lisbon's face, the smell of blood hit her nostrils and suddenly she was sucked down into that dream.

How could she have forgotten? The smell of blood, everywhere, pooling over the handsome blonde mans shirt, over the pavement. A scarlet puddle. A woman's scream. Sirens blaring. Her heart was racing so fast in fear that she was sure it was going to rip right out of her chest and bounce around the ambulance.

Lisbon turned her head and was sick all over Brad Pitt's shiny black shoes.


	3. Chapter Two

**A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed the story. Your support is overwhelming and much appreciated as always. Enjoy the next chapter **

Brad Pitt was very nice about his shoes.  
Lisbon was appalled and embarrassed and struggled to climb off the stretcher so she could find something to help clean them up. The paramedics told her very sternly to stay still.  
Perhaps it was regular for paramedics to have their shoes vomited on.

She couldn't hear the sirens wailing."I suppose I'm not dying then?" she asked Brad conversationally.  
He chuckled. "No. Just a slight concussion. We'll get you fixed up in a jiffy."

It disturbed Lisbon slightly when doctors and medical professionals used phrases like 'fixed up in a jiffy'. It made them sound far too young and too surprised. Nothing should surprise a paramedic. These medical professionals seem so impressive and then they disappointed you by turning out to be ordinary everyday people.

They arrived at the hospital and she was loaded out of the back of the ambulance.  
"What've we got here?" asked a woman who met them at the doors.  
She looked about fourteen, Lisbon wondered if she was doing work experience and then was shocked when she saw the girl wearing a doctor's coat. Surely, this couldn't be her doctor.  
"Just a bit of a bump on the noggin," Brad said sounding not at all medical.

"Wait, I never asked your name," she said to Brad before she was wheeled away by the teenager.  
"Jamie," Brad said apologetically as if he knew it would be a disappointment.

She watched as the fluorescent lights flashed by rhythmically as she was wheeled down the white hallway.  
Lisbon wondered if it had been a dream. But it had been so realistic. She went back to the bits she could remember. There was nothing familiar about the man who was murdered, though it had been dark and she didn't see him very well. Even though her memory was fuzzy she thought there was something about the distraught young woman that tugged elusively at her memory a little.

A few hours later, the young girl who met her at the gate came in.  
"Well, Miss Lisbon, your CT scan showed no sign of intracranial bleeding."  
Lisbon liked this girl. Sure, she looked like she hadn't even hit puberty yet but she used words like 'intracranial bleeding'. It was very professional.

"Once we get your discharge papers sorted, you can go home," she said.  
Lisbon nodded in a dismissive way but the doctor didn't leave. She hugged her clipboard close to her chest and looked as if she were interested in having a chat.

Lisbon searched her brain for interesting topics of conversation.  
"Did you get in touch with my boss?" Lisbon asked. "Of course you might not have had the chance…"  
She didn't want the doctor to snarl; "Sorry, I was preoccupied saving somebody's life."  
The doctor nodded. "Yes, he said not to worry about coming into work tomorrow. Is there anybody else you'd like me to call?"

"Ummm…" Lisbon thought. "No, thanks."  
The doctor gave her a pitying look.

A nurse walked in and whispered something to the doctor.  
"I'm sorry, Miss Lisbon. I've got an emergency I have to attend to. When you're ready go down to the administration and they'll give you your discharge forms to sign. And here is your prescription for some pain killers. It's going to be quite a head ache tomorrow so get that filled at a pharmacy as soon as possible."

Finally, she was able to go home. Lisbon walked down the busy corridor filled with patients, stretchers, doctors and nurses rushing everywhere. Overcrowding hospitals in California was a topic that she noticed was broadcasted about quite regularly but only now did she realise first-hand how chaotic the health system was. And noisy.

Someone in a wheelchair was trying to get passed in all the madness so Lisbon pressed herself up against a door opened slightly ajar to let him pass. Just out of the corner of her eye she saw something colourful stand out from the usual solemn, grim looking occupants in the room behind her. A little blonde girl was sitting on a chair with a big woollen blanket around her tiny shoulders. She was dressed in a pink costume and had bright fairy wings on her back.

But there was something wrong with the picture. For one, the little girl was shaking and crying, streaks of mascara running down her face staining her cheeks (_Isn't she a little young to be wearing makeup?_ Lisbon thought) and she wasn't sitting on the chair normally. She was tiny enough to be curled up on the seat, holding herself tightly in the foetal position and turned her back to the doctors one of which had a needle, screaming at them through her sobbing so that Lisbon couldn't make out what she was saying. Toddlers throwing tantrums weren't all that unusual. The little girl was most likely here for some kind of immunisation. Lisbon shuddered. She herself was never a fan of needles.

There was another man there too, possibly her father because they looked quite the same. He was very handsome – it sent an electric shock through her system. Yes, definitely a relation. He was kneeling on the little girl's other side. He was trying to talk to her, to reassure and comfort her but she seemed to be ignoring him, looking right through him as though he wasn't there.

Childishly, the girl put both her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tightly as if she didn't believe what the doctor was saying and began to rock back and forth. "Stop it! Leave me alone! I want to wake up now, I don't like this dream. I want to wake up! Where's my daddy? I want my daddy!" she sobbed as one of the doctors gently held her shoulders while the other pressed the needle into her skin.

Lisbon felt like she should leave. The wheelchair man was long gone so she had no business leaning against this door frame, listening in to this child's clearly incapacitated mental state. But there was something drawing her to the room, an intrigue. And worry for the tiny girl. Shouldn't such a distraught child be sedated or something? For her own health? Maybe that's what they were doing to her now. Lisbon wanted nothing more than to go in there and hug the cute little butterfly girl and reassure her. Which was odd because Teresa Lisbon had never been overly maternal or had such urges.

Suddenly the blonde man, the girl's probable relative, turned around and looked at Lisbon so deep and intense that she felt a blush creep up her neck but she was unable to look away. She told herself it was her being caught peering into a personal family drama that was making her blush in embarrassment…not the fact that this incredibly handsome, gorgeous man was staring into her soul with the most piercing green eyes. He looked at her oddly with surprise and curiosity. Lisbon managed to rip her gaze away to her feet and continued walking down the hallway clutching her prescription slip in her now clammy hand.

The admin lady was one of those jolly, cheerful types. The type of people who Lisbon really couldn't stand when she wasn't in a particularly cheerful mood.

She filled out her papers while listening dutifully to exactly how to administer her pain medication.  
"See you next time," the receptionist smiled waving.  
A not very comforting parting statement in a hospital, Lisbon thought, as she walked out and hailed a taxi leaving the intriguing blonde man and the day's excitement behind her.

_**Eight Weeks Later**_

"No, not that one…" Angela Jane repeated for the umpteenth time.  
"Come on Angel, you hated that shirt!" Patrick said as the young woman put it on the ever growing _'keep'_ pile.

Angela glanced in thecardboard box marked for throwing away.  
"Why is this in the rubbish box?" she rounded on Danny holding up a crumbled piece of paper between her fingertips.  
"It's just some rubbish I found under the bed," Danny shrugged.  
"It is not rubbish!" she stated defiantly with her hand on her hip. Patrick sighed a little in relief. He liked defiant Angela; it was reminiscent of her old self instead of the scary lifeless woman that had embodied her as of late.

"I told you to ask me before you throw anything out, Daniel."  
"It's….a napkin?" Danny said trying to find what wrong doing he had performed now.

Angela looked shocked and hurt by his statement and held the napkin to her chest as if Danny had hurt its feelings.  
Danny sighed. "Annie, you don't have to keep it just because he doodled a picture of a….penguin?... in the corner."  
"I like the picture," Angela said decidedly smoothing it out and placing on the pile.  
"Angela," Patrick said exasperated shaking his head.

"Is Charlotte speaking to you yet?" Danny asked.

Charlotte had worn an old jumper of her father's for weeks and weeks after he died and refused to take it off, kicking and screaming when Angela had finally pulled it over her head. Charlotte still hadn't forgiven her. Angela still hadn't forgiven herself.

"Kind of," Angela said and went to go check on Charlotte who was in the other room with their protective custody agent.

Danny looked down at the dining room table in the safe house the police had put them in for the past few weeks. He had come over to help Angela sort out Patrick's belongings that he had brought over from their house. So far, there were five boxes, two suitcases and three piles of things she wanted him to take back. In the throw out box, there were a few certificates, some books and letters that Danny was quite sure were actually Angela's old things. Patrick knew his assumption was correct.

Patrick sighed and walked out of the room. He would go crazy if he had to watch this anymore. He knew why he was still here, unable to touch or talk to his family. They were in terrible danger. Red John was going to kill his two girls. Red John taunted him about it right before he, himself was killed.

But he had no way to warn them, to warn anyone. His last hope was that woman at the hospital a while ago who might have seen him. Patrick was sure that she saw him or maybe he was grasping at straws. He recognised the woman, Teresa Lisbon from the file picture. It was the woman he was supposed to work for when he became a consultant (his alive self made sure to do research on each of his prospective work colleagues).

It was a long shot but he was out of options. Eight weeks had passed and Red John was getting closer to deciding which way he would prefer to dispose of the rest of the Jane family. With this constantly in the back of his mind, he walked out of the house and began his search.

000

"But that's just the point," Dean said turning the corner sharply. "They say they want to preserve the integrity and the basic intention but they've got corporate mindsets. Look, just talk to Glen and see what he says. No, not this morning, I've got something going. I'll be in by noon though. Okay, later."

"Sorry about that," Dean said to Lisbon as he flipped the phone shut.  
"No problem," Lisbon said. Actually, she did have a problem. She spent a week's pay check finding the most gorgeous outfit, an hour doing her hair to go out to dinner only to have Dean spent the entire time on the phone. So yeah, she did have a problem.

She grumbled a lot on her way upstairs to her apartment. Lisbon shut the door and kicked off her high heels angrily.

"Bad date?" a voice said behind her.  
Lisbon spun around, her hand automatically going to her hip where her gun was usually kept. Except it was under her pillow at the moment.

A man was leaning against the door frame, observing her like she was some interesting, curious insect. Lisbon recognised him but couldn't remember where exactly. Maybe an escaped criminal she had arrested, back for revenge. Well, we couldn't have that now could we?

"Okay," Lisbon said steadily, professionally but still completely caught off guard in her own home. "I'm not sure who the hell you are and why the hell you are in my apartment but put your hands up slowly and..."

"Good, you can hear me," Patrick said clapping his hands together and standing up with utter glee and hope in his face. "I need to ask you for a favour."  
"I will shoot," Lisbon warned, hand behind her back when he approached her. "I mean it."

"With what?" Patrick laughed. "Your obvious charismatic charm? I believe your weapon, Agent Lisbon, is currently under your pillow. Sleeping with a gun is quite dangerous, not to mention a tad paranoid. You should really see someone about that, my dear."

"Who are you?" Lisbon demanded.  
"I'm sorry," Patrick said gentlemanly. "Patrick Jane."  
"W-what?" Lisbon stammered. Surely Jane wasn't a common surname. "You can't be. He – Patrick Jane, the psychic? I heard he died."  
"Yes, I'm aware," Patrick said putting his hand through Lisbon's wall transparently and watching her mouth drop.

"I saw you at the hospital," Patrick said taking advantage of the momentary silence due to Lisbon's obvious shock. "When you were in some kind of accident. I was certain you saw me."  
"I'm in a coma, aren't I?" Lisbon said looking around her apartment. "I really did knock myself out on the stairs and all this….All this is some parallel universe, right? Something my mind has concocted."

"Thwarted by stairs, was it?" Patrick asked. "I expected something more impressive from such a refined agent as yourself. However, no, this is quite real."

Lisbon's eyes narrowed and she spoke slowly. "Fine, if you are some kind of paranormal…whatever…why are you still here? Shouldn't you be…I don't know. In heaven or something?"

Patrick chuckled. "I don't believe such a place exists, Miss Lisbon, for people like me at least. And as for your first question, it's obvious I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Unfinished business?" Lisbon said raising her eyebrow.  
"Yes, haven't you ever seen Ghost Whisperer?"

"This isn't real, this isn't real," Lisbon said closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips to her forehead.  
"Relax," Patrick said. "Settle down and have a cup of tea. God, I would if I could. In the meantime however I need you to help me with something."

Lisbon didn't answer so he continued. "There is a murderer, Red John. I'm sure you've heard of him."  
Lisbon opened her eyes. "Yes."  
"Good. He killed me and now he's going after my family. I need you to warn them."

"No, no, no, no way!" Lisbon said. "You need to go back to whatever part of my brain conjured you. You're a hallucination. I'm going to go to the hospital in the morning and sort this out."

"Yes, we'll go to the hospital," Patrick promised. "Just after we make a quick pit stop at my house."  
"Not happening," Lisbon said. "I'll wake up tomorrow and you will be gone."  
She went into the bathroom and splashed some water on to her face before changing into her pyjamas. Clearly, she needed a vacation. Italy, maybe.

Patrick was lounging on her bed comfortably when she walked out.

"What the hell?"  
"You do this one favour for me," he said. "And I'll leave you alone forever. You can have your quiet miserable life back, I promise."  
"Go to hell," Lisbon said falling on her bed and turning her back to him.  
"Believe me, I'm trying," Patrick said. "But I can't until I know that they are safe."

She didn't answer. Stubborn. He could handle stubborn. He married stubborn.  
"Fine," he said crossing his arms. "I can stick around and make your life a living hell. I have all the time in the world."  
"Believe me; you can't make it much worse," she mumbled.  
Patrick smiled at the drama-queen. If there was something he loved, it was a challenge….

"SING ME TO SLEEP  
SING ME TO SLEEP  
I'M TIRED AND I…  
I WANT TO GO TO BED!"

Lisbon stuck her pillow over her head. She knew her gun was pointless in this situation but the temptation to at least try and shoot him in the face was strong.  
Patrick looked over at her while he sung completely out of tune and loudly to the only song he knew all the words to.

"AND THEN LEAVE ME ALONE  
DON'T TRY TO WAKE ME IN THE MORNING  
'CAUSE I WILL BE GONE…  
DON'T FEEL BAD FOR ME  
I WANT YOU TO KNOW  
DEEP IN THE CELL OF MY HEART  
I WILL FEEL SO GLAD TO GO."

Lisbon peeked at the clock. 4am. She would never be able to listen to this song again. Which was a pity since it was one of her favourite and most sacred songs from her childhood. Used to be, at least. Until it was sung out of tune for hours and hours. Her mother used to listen to it and sing it all the time.

He dropped is voice to a low annoying hum right next to her pillow.

"How did you know I liked, used to like this song?!"  
"The Smiths CD was in your CD player. And my wife is fond of that song, I think. I've heard it enough times to remember every word a hundred times over."

Patrick could feel her resolve breaking.  
_Why haven't the neighbours complained yet?_ Lisbon thought until she remembered that she was only one who could hear this demon sent from hell that seemed intent on destroying her. Perhaps not that dramatic but at 4am, she was certain that her theatrics were rendered appropriate for this situation.

He took a break and looked over. Her grip on her pillow seemed to relax and her eyes were rolling deliriously. He couldn't have that so he began the song again for the hundredth or so time.  
"SING ME TO…"

"FINE!" she yelled and punched her pillow. "Fine, I'll go there. I'll warn them. I'll say whatever you want just SHUT UP AND LET ME SLEEP!"  
Patrick smiled. This was going to be fun.

000

Minelli was in his chair wearing his permanent superior frown as he stared down at the request in his hand.  
Lisbon had started a secret tally in her head to find whether Minelli or Cho held the CBI record for least smiles per year.

"Hmmm," he frowned examining it further as if checking for bomb residue.  
"Is that a good _hmm_ or a bad _hmm_?" Lisbon pressed, twisting her fingers.

Minelli put up his hand to silence her as he read further. After what felt like hours, he finally glanced up at her.

"Well, I have to say, I'm surprised, Lisbon. Why the sudden interest in protection detail? It's never something that's interested you before."

Lisbon had the answer well prepared in her head.

"You are always saying that I need to take time off and I think a break from all the action would be beneficial. Being on protection detail would be less stressful but still uses all my skills and knowledge in the area."

"Well, that was a well memorised little speech," Minelli said. "I suppose it is nice to have you listen to something I'm saying for once. When did this sudden realisation come to you?"

"I'm not sure, but it kept me up all night," she replied darkly, hoping Minelli wouldn't pick up on her bitter tone and get suspicious.

"I suppose I can see how you would be an asset in protection detail but why are you so interested in the Jane family specifically?"

"I know the case. My connections at the DOJ allow me to have access to all the information and I am better informed about Red John than the other agents on the protection detail," Lisbon said.  
Another well rehearsed answer she had prepared earlier. Her experience with Minelli's predictable questions gave her an edge.

"Hmmm," Minelli frowned.  
Lisbon made an impatient, frustrated noise. "Is that a good _hmm_ or a bad _hmm_?"

"Alright, alright," he said. "I'll give you couple of months but you should know that I doubt the protective custody agent assigned to the Janes will be thrilled about having to share. It isn't exactly a high priority case so they were told it no other agents would be butting in."

"I understand but I assure you, boss, that I will cooperate with them to the best of my ability."  
"Yes, you will or I'll have your ass back at your desk faster than you can sneeze. Are we clear?"  
"Perfectly, sir."

"Good," he said. "I can try and earn you some brownie points by having you do the night shift for the first few weeks."  
"That's settled then," Lisbon said standing up.  
"Mmhmm," Minelli frowned again going back to his stack of paperwork and Lisbon took this as her dismissal.

Lisbon left his office and stopped in her tracks when she saw her blonde demon bouncing towards her excitedly and anxiously, unnoticed by the agents wandering the corridor.

"Did you do it? Did it work? Are you…"  
"Yes," Lisbon snapped bitterly, under her breath and stomped past him.  
He caught up with her. "Don't be annoyed, Lizzy."

"I'm sorry but did you just call me…._Lizzy_?"  
"Yeah, it's like a nickname. A sign of companionship. You know, since we'll be working together kind of. Like partners."

"Call me _Lizzy_ again and I will search every mystical corner of the known earth until I find an ancient method of abolishing you."  
"Bon-Bon, then? Or what about Lizzy Bon-Bon?"

Jane could nearly feel the waves of fury rolling off of Lisbon.

"Fine, no nicknames," he said. "But seriously though, you shouldn't be too annoyed about this."

"You think?"

"Nope," Jane shook his head. "It's a chance to expand your horizons. Carpe Diem!"  
"Please don't get all bilingual with me; I can barely tolerate your English form."  
"Oh, come on Tess, I'm not that bad!"

Lisbon looked at him exasperated.  
"You break into my house, refuse to let me sleep, stalk me and now you've forced me into changing my job on an indefinite basis," she hissed so the other agents wouldn't hear her rambling into thin air.

"Well actually," Jane said. "I did not break into your house, I went through the door. I didn't refuse to let you sleep; I just didn't help you sleep. Technically, I'm haunting you rather than stalking you. And I would never force you to do anything. I gave you a proposition and allowed you to make the final decision."  
"Only you could make blackmail sound ethical!" Lisbon snapped glaring at him while her mind flashed back to that morning.

After three glorious silent hours of sleep, she had kept her word and tried to contact Jane's family. However, there was restricted access to the telephone number, email address and any other method of contact.  
"You have to go there," Jane said after Lisbon listened to the disconnected tone of the number Jane had given her which had clearly been changed.

Lisbon looked at him imploringly. "Jane, if your assumptions about your family's safety are correct that I can ensure you that the DOJ have considered it as well which means that they have assigned protection detail to your family."

"Yes, I saw the 'protection detail' when they moved. Thank god, Danny has come to stay so she doesn't have to fully rely on that useless tosser your beloved DOJ employed."

"Your opinion aside, there are already precautions put in place. Clearly, this isn't a high profile case and we can't waste valuable resources on…"  
"_Cant waste valuable resources_," he mimicked in a poor imitation of her authorative voice.

"Do you realise the trouble I would be in if I interfered in this investigation? Hell, I could lose my job simply by knocking on the front door!"  
"Then think of a way to not lose your job," Jane shrugged as if it were just that easy.

"Okay, Jane. Say I did manage to defy the impossible and side step the law. What do you want me to say? _Hey, Mrs Jane! I was just chatting away to your moron ghost of a dead husband who wanted me to tell you that his killer wants to come and chop up you and your daughter_?"

"Pretty much, but she'd probably let you call her by her first name. She's pretty cool."

Lisbon shook her head. "No, no. I did what I could. I tried. There is no way I can interfere with this and keep my badge. I'm sorry but it's not happening, you'll just have to trust that the DOJ has it under control."

Jane looked at her mischievously and began singing again.

And that is how Teresa Lisbon ended up in the CBI corridor and put on protection detail for the Jane family.

"I'm proud of you," Jane continued. "I just assumed that you would rather get fired than sleep deprived but then - **BAM** – Agent Lisbon comes up with a plan to keep everyone happy and everything legal."

"Everyone meaning you."

"Maybe now but you'll be glad you did this in the long run. Trust me."  
"And why are you so convinced that your wife is going to believe me?"

"Oh, I know she won't believe you and probably will think you're crazy. She's a doctor so she doesn't believe in that supernatural crap," Jane said as if he were sceptical about his own existence also.

"Say's the spirit," Lisbon muttered.

"All I need you to do is catch Red John, kill him if possible," he said and added quickly when he saw the look on Lisbon's face. "Self defence of course. And when that's done I'll leave you free to continue the rest of your life Patrick Jane-less."

Lisbon's eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head at the prospect of her life being 'Patrick Jane-less'.

"And what do you propose I do until I catch Red John?" she asked. "Take up origami?"  
"Well, Angela's not coping well; you could always help her with your incredible people skills in the mean time."

"Is Angela your wife?" Lisbon asked.  
"Yes."

"She's beyond help then," Lisbon scoffed. "She married you didn't she?"

They both glared at each other and then Lisbon sighed knowing that he wasn't going anywhere until she met his demands.

"Let's go and research your murder then, shall we?" Lisbon said walking to where the files were kept.  
"Finally, something you're saying makes sense!"

It was certainly weird looking at the crime scene photos. Lisbon felt her stomach squirming at the sight of Jane lying on black pavement in a puddle of red blood, two blossoming patches of red staining his shirt, one small bullet wound, the other a slash across his chest and stomach.

"Gunshot and stabbing, was it?" Lisbon asked. "I expected something more impressive from such a refined jackass as yourself."

Jane chuckled as he stood behind her. "I guess I deserve that."  
"No you deserve much more. What Red John did was kindly compared to the murderous fantasies, I've been brewing up in my head," Lisbon said flicking through other files.

"Who's Daniel Ruskin?" she asked as she read.  
"My brother-in-law," Jane told her.  
"Okay and the protection detail is Agent Luke Foster."

"Miserable little git isn't he?" Jane sneered looking at the photo.  
"I don't blame him," Lisbon said grimly. "There's next to no action involved in low profile protection cases. Something I have to look forward to," she glared at him menacingly.

"I can't believe I got roped into this. I thought I was more assertive than that."  
"Don't feel bad," Jane reassured. "I'm good at manipulating people, it's what I do."  
"Did," Lisbon corrected harshly.

Lisbon picked up the last photo clipped in the file.

It was of a child wrapped lovingly in the arms of her mother.

The little girl had had golden ringlets that were bunched up in pigtails on each side of her head. She was smiling ecstatically with a dimple denting each of her cherubic cheeks. She was so cute, she looked Photoshopped.  
The woman holding her was smiling too and Lisbon couldn't help but noticed the contrast between her and her daughter. Her long brown hair looked especially darker falling across her daughters golden hair in loose waves. Her skin was paler than her daughters but they both had the same brown eyes. There was something naggingly familiar about the woman that she couldn't place.

"Cute family," Lisbon commented.  
"Thanks."  
"I'm not complimenting _you_," Lisbon said irritably, her temper firing up again. God, she hated this man.

"Someone's rather snarky,"  
"Oh, just leave me alone!" she yelled banging her fist on the table.

"Um…Lisbon?" Minelli said slowly by the doorway, clearly concerned.  
"Hi, boss," Lisbon said trying to hide her mortification. "Flies. Pesky little things, aren't they?"  
"Sure," he said, eyeing her warily. "I'm driving you personally to the house so I can explain the situation. I assumed you've briefed yourself on the details of the case?"

"Yep," she said holding up the file.  
"Good, let's go then," he said in his usual grumpy fashion.  
"See you later," Jane whispered in her ear before disappearing.

000

"What am I doing?" Lisbon said quietly shifting from foot to foot with her fist hovered in front of the door, unable to make a knocking motion.

There was the doorbell but Lisbon had an irrational prejudge against doorbells. She was always worried about them not working or maybe waking up a sleeping baby. They were an unreliable not to mention an unnecessary invention. She much preferred a good old fashioned knock.

Minelli was making a call by the car and told her to go on. She felt embarrassed and nervous, her palms sweaty as she managed to get out two quiet taps on the door.

It seemed enough though because she heard footsteps approach and someone rattle the doorknob.  
When the person answered, Lisbon had her mouth open ready to ask for Mrs Jane when she realised with an unpleasant jolt, a moment too late, that this person in front of her _was_ Angela Jane.

The woman who stood before her though was so different from the beautiful woman in the picture she had seen not more than twenty minutes ago.

Angela's dark hair was limp and lifeless against her skin that looked closer to pallid than pale. The brown of her eyes was weak and washed out like that nice sweater Lisbon owned that was now faded from constant wash and wear.

Lisbon felt like an idiot standing on this woman's porch, unable to form any words that seemed fitting.  
"Mrs Jane," Minelli said coming up the stairs. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

He extended his hand to her warmly and Lisbon noticed for the first time the way Angela had her arms wrapped around herself, like she was holding herself together and even the tiniest vibration could shatter her.

Angela looked at Minelli's hand knowing that it was polite to shake his hand but seemed unable to take it but Minelli closed his fist and swung it back and forth like he didn't notice anything.

"Hi," Angela said smiling although it looked so obviously pained and unnatural on her face. "Come in," she said quickly, just realising everyone was backed up in the doorway like a traffic jam.  
Lisbon stepped inside awkwardly and Angela scooped up some dolls scattered along the floor and placed them on the table.

"Sorry about the mess," Angela apologised brushing a limp curl that was dangling by her eye behind her ear and gestured to the toys that were scattered around the room.  
Lisbon never understood why people apologised when their house was messy. It was _their_ place for goodness sake. Well, this was a temporary little house til they could go to their normal home when it was safe but still.

"Its fine," Lisbon assured her. Lisbon quite liked the mess. It wasn't a dirty mess, it was a good lived-in mess. A mess that was proof of a real home and family.

Angela folded her arms around herself again and leaned against the back of a chair.  
"I just assigned Agent Lisbon here," Minelli informed her.

Angela tipped her head to one side slightly. _Hey, I do that! _Lisbon thought to herself.  
"Is there a problem?" a handsome man in a navy blue sweater and jeans that Lisbon recognised to be Danny Ruskin said as he came in and stood next to his sister protectively.  
"I was told that there was no danger. That my sister and niece _don't seem_ to be in any immediate danger from Red John and I am sure if that changes, I am capable with dealing with him," he said as if daring someone to tell him that he was no match for Red John.

Lisbon had to admire the young boys confidence although it would probably get him killed one day. _Just ask Patrick Jane_, she wanted to say to him. Out of the corner of her vision she saw Angela rolling her eyes at her younger brother.

"There's no new developments to suggest any further danger," Minelli said quickly. "Not at all. Agent Lisbon here just needed a break from her fast paced job and has agreed to stay here each night just til we think it's safe enough."

A low throaty noise like a scoff came from behind Lisbon and at first she thought it was Jane, back to annoy her but when she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed a man leaning against the doorway to the living room, glaring at Lisbon with obvious distaste.

"Ah, Agent Foster," Minelli said noticing him as well. "I suppose you've heard also."  
"Yes," he said in a smooth, evened out voice. "However, I have some reservations about your decision, Agent Minelli."  
"Oh?" Minelli said, feigning surprise, knowing full well what these 'reservations' would be.

"I have had the situation here perfectly under control for over a month now. If Red John is planning something, I am equipped enough to deal with it…without any additional people getting in the way."

"I think if he was going to do anything, he would have done it by now," Angela said quietly from the corner. It was unnerving to frequently have people discussing things about her right in front of her.

"Its assumptions like that, that will get you murdered, Angela," Foster said to Angela with an air of ownership, like she was some shiny object he had to protect who was obliged to listen to him. Danny looked shocked at him and moved closer to Angela's side.

Lisbon silently agreed with what he said but thought that Foster was a tad tactless. Did he really have to be so _blunt_?

"And I thank you, Minelli for your concern," Foster added. "But I am fairly certain you can put _Agent Lisbon_ to better use. I can look after the Jane family myself."  
He made a face when he said her name which riled Lisbon right up.

"You needn't worry, _Agent Foster_. I just plan on supervising and making sure that your lack of experience doesn't get in the way of performing the task at hand," she answered in the same tone he used with her.

"Play nice, kids," Minelli said putting his hands up. "There's plenty of room in the sandbox. And on that note, I'm going back to the office. Agent Foster, If you could bring Agent Lisbon up to speed with the investigation and getting settled and Agent Lisbon, I am leaving it up to you to adapt yourself to his routine. Clear?"

"Clear," she said glaring at Foster.

"Good day, Mrs Jane. Mr Ruskin," he said and Angela looked reproachfully at Minelli as if to say '_You're seriously not going to leave me alone with them_!'

She looked from Lisbon to Foster awkwardly wondering how on earth this situation was going to work out. Maybe she could just hang out upstairs with Danny and Charlotte for the next few months, venturing down into the war zone only when it was absolutely necessary.

Minelli left leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

Angela was the first to break the ice.  
"Do you need some pyjamas for tonight, Agent Lisbon?" she asked. "I think I'm about your size."  
"Oh no, thank you," Lisbon said. "My boyf…Dean is dropping a bag off for me for tonight until I can go home and pack properly tomorrow."

Lisbon heard tiny footsteps thumping clumsily across the floorboards. Angela heard the (familiar) noise as well and turned around.

At that moment a little girl came running into the room wearing only a T-shirt and underpants dotted with pictures of strawberries.

"Mummy, where are my shorts?" she said in her tinkling voice. "I mean the denim ones. And don't say, have I looked in the drawer, because yes, I have looked, for ages and ages, and yes, actually, I did use my eyes."

She pirouetted on the spot with her arms held gracefully above her head.  
"You've gotten so good at that, Charlotte," Danny knelt down to her level.

"Yes, I am pretty good," she sighed as if it were quite the responsibility. She stuck on her leg and admired her pointed toe.

Then her eyes fell on Lisbon and she exclaimed with surprised happiness, bouncing over to her welcomingly but accidentally tumbled clumsily into her, her head colliding softly with her stomach. Lisbon's hands automatically held the tiny girl up to keep her from face planting.

The little girl smiled up at her with curiosity.

Lisbon thought that Charlotte Jane was impossibly beautiful: smooth skin with a light cinnamon dusting of freckles across her nose, and enormous dark-lashed brown eyes. Lisbon couldn't help but reach down and lightly touch her beautiful golden hair, the soft wisps of silk intertwining with her fingers.

"Well, you've met Charlotte then," Angela said with a delicate sigh but there was unmistakeable love and adoration in her voice when she said her daughters name.  
"My name is Charlotte Anne Jane," Charlotte told her. "What's your name?"

"Teresa," Lisbon said, realising she was still holding the girl and gently removed her arms, making sure that she had her footing.

Charlotte wrinkled her nose slight and tipped her head to the side.  
"I think I saw you at the hos-ber-tabel."

Lisbon then remembered she recognised Charlotte as that crying little girl in the butterfly costume. It seemed obvious why she was crying now.

"Why were you in the hos-ber-tabel, Teaser?" she asked. "Were you sick?"  
"I just bumped my head," Lisbon said, unable to keep herself from smiling. Charlotte just seemed to have that effect on people.

"Is it still sore?"  
"A little bit," Lisbon said rubbing the spot on her skull that was still an uneven lump.  
"Oh, poor darling Teaser," Charlotte said frowning then her face brightened. "I know! I'll listen to your heart and be your nurse. Yes!"

Charlotte skidded off quickly; nearly falling over sideways in her socks on the floorboards and then ran upstairs to her room leaving the adults again in an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry about Charlotte," Angela said to Lisbon. "She can be a bit exuberant at times."  
"Its fine," Lisbon said quickly. "She's cute. Not exactly shy..."  
"Actually, she has been lately," Angela said looking straight at Lisbon for the first time. "I think she really likes you. She has a scarily good judgment of character."

Lisbon realised after a minute that this was a compliment but before she could thank Angela, Charlotte came sliding back in with a red cape tied around her shoulders, a toy stethoscope around her neck and a plastic pink first aid kit.

Red lipstick was smeared clumsily across her lips and she had on humongous glasses that magnified her bright eyes. Apparently the search for the denim shorts had been abandoned.

"Okay, Teaser, I'm ready to be your nurse," she said. "Sit down and I'll take your temperature."  
Charlotte walked over to and took Lisbon's hand. Charmed by the feel of her small, warm palm, Lisbon let herself be led to the couch in the lounge room.

"Lie down, there's a dear," Charlotte said kneeling beside her as Lisbon lay down.  
"Say ahhh!"  
Lisbon complied and Charlotte stuck the toy thermometer in her mouth.

Charlotte stroked back the hair from Lisbon's forehead and said: "Now I will listen to your heartbeat, patient."  
She plugged the stethoscope into her ears and pressed the other end to Lisbon's chest.

She frowned professionally.  
Lisbon bit back a laugh. This kid was adorable.

"Okay, patient, your heart is beating," she informed her taking the stethoscope out of her ears.  
"Phew," Lisbon played along theatrically wiping her hand across her forehead in relief.

Charlotte removed the plastic thermometer and looked at it. Her mouth dropped comically.  
"You have a terrible fever, patient. You're burning up!"  
"Oh no," Lisbon said. "What should I do?"  
"You should watch me do a cartwheel," Charlotte said brightly. "That will cure you!"

Lisbon watched as her little face furrowed in concentration as she attempted a lopsided cartwheel that resulted in her tumbling into the table that Angela had placed her dolls on just before. They toppled off along with Charlotte's glasses.

"Oops!" Charlotte exclaimed putting both her hands over her mouth and looking at Lisbon with wide eyes.

Lisbon couldn't help it but laugh at the small child and then felt a rush of warmth towards her annoying ghost.

At first she had hated the man for putting her through hell but now…now when she looked at Charlotte she could understand why Jane would go as far as he would to protect this sweet, innocent little bundle of life and Lisbon decided, then and there that she would help Jane catch Red John before he could lay a finger on what was left of this tiny family.

**Feedback and comments are always appreciated **


	4. Chapter Three

**I felt compelled to upload as soon as I could when I read all the lovely reviews you guys left on the last one. It really does mean a great deal and thanks to the new followers and to the people that even favourited the story! Please enjoy the next chapter **

Lisbon was sitting on the porch steps at sunset with Charlotte who was giving her new favourite person a detailed account of her morning. Apparently Angela had taken Charlotte to the primary school that was right next to Charlotte's kindergarten to get her forms to fill out for 'proper big girl school'.

She seemed especially excited that 'Froster and Uncle Danny' had even come but Lisbon knew the actual reason behind their attendance and it made her shudder slightly.

Dean's silver BMW skidded into the driveway, spraying white stones in the air as he cut the engine. He got out and his gelled ashy blonde hair was slightly tousled, his tie loose and his eyes hidden by his expensive sunglasses. His Blackberry was predictably planted against his ear.

Lisbon had to admit that his attractiveness was pretty much the only trait that she admired in Dean. It made her feel shallow and laughable, like she was some fifteen year old schoolgirl. She would probably break out with him in the next week.

"Is that your…_boyfriend_?" Charlotte asked keeping her voice to barely a whisper, her little nose scrunching as if 'boyfriend' were a dirty word.

Lisbon smiled. "Yes. His name is Dean."  
"_Hmm_," Charlotte frowned, clearly disgusted. "But doesn't he have….germs?"  
Lisbon laughed at that. It had seemed so long ago when she herself had believed in 'boy germs'.

Dean walked towards them. His aura of business and decisions and important, mustn't-be-disturbed meetings looked alien in the sunlit toy-littered front yard.

As he got closer, Lisbon's bag in his hand, she heard him say. "Let's say two mill. Does that sound okay? Excellent. Bye." He snapped the phone shut with one hand and Lisbon wanted to say; "Oh, Dean, honey, stop being such a tosser!"

Lisbon felt embarrassed and began to blush. She didn't know why she should. She and her boyfriend had nothing to prove to a _four-year-old_. Yet she felt oddly intimidated with her relationship under Charlotte's brown eyed gaze. Similar to how she felt with Jane.

"Hi," he said to her, standing over Lisbon and Charlotte. "I got your bag."  
"Thanks," Lisbon said as he dropped it beside her as Angela came out the front door. She was wearing an apron over her clothes and her hair was tied back into a messy bun. Lisbon noticed a smudge of spaghetti sauce streaked across one of her cheeks. She didn't have the heart to tell her.

"Charlotte, there you are," she said lifting the little girl up, who went willingly, clearly terrified of the man.  
She buried her head shyly against Angela's neck and peeked at Dean.

Lisbon wondered why she was acting like that and then remembered Angela's comment about Charlotte's good judgment of character.

"Oh, hi, you must be Lisbon's partner," Angela said warmly.  
Dean glanced at her quickly as if amazed that such a boring, plain human being was talking to him.  
"Yes."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Angela asked politely. "I feel terrible about taking Teresa away from you for so many evenings."

His sunglasses hid his eyes but there was no mistaking the look of shock and disgust that momentarily crossed his face as if he found the invitation offensive. Lisbon saw Angela's cheeks blush with embarrassment. Lisbon wanted so badly to hit him.

"Actually I have plans," he said, rather rudely.  
"Oh, okay, have a goodnight. It was lovely to meet you," she said sincerely, his rudeness not fazing her friendly demeanour.

Charlotte touched the sauce on Angela's cheek and sucked it off her finger experimentally. "We'll let you finish saying goodbye."  
Lisbon tried the best she could to smile apologetically back at Angela.

Of course, Angela would have expected them to _"finish saying goodbye". _

To exchange hugs and kisses and '_I love you'_s'. So maybe her relationship with Dean wasn't as Rockwellian as Patrick and Angela Jane's marriage but it was still intimate human interaction which is more than what she usually had.

Sometimes she thought maybe she just went out with Dean to prove to people: _"Hey, hey, look! I can be close to people. I'm normal. See?_"

"I have an early flight tomorrow so I'll call you when I arrive in D.C," Dean said to her polishing his sunglasses on his collar.

"Boy, he'd be make a fine fisherman," Jane said behind her, his voice seething with dislike.  
"Okay," Lisbon said to Dean.  
"…with that fishing rod stuck up his ass."

"That's settled," Dean said as if he and Lisbon had agreed on some business arrangement, kissing her cheek quickly. "I'll talk to you then."  
Lisbon waved as he sped off in his shiny car and then turned to Jane who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Do you mind?"  
"What?" he said, shock crossing his face. "What did I do?"  
"Do you have to be such an asshole? That is my _boyfriend_ you're talking about."  
"I can be an asshole to anyone who is rude to my _wife_, Bon-Bon."  
Lisbon let out an enraged roar of fury.

Charlotte timidly appeared from behind the corner of the front door.  
"Are you okay, Teaser?" she asked quietly, clearly alarmed.

"Sorry, honey," Lisbon said quickly. "I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe on the step."  
"Mummy told me not to come out here until you finished saying bye to your _boyfriend_," her face wrinkled with disgust again at the word. "Dinner is nearly ready. Mummy's making zarn-ya."

Lisbon followed Charlotte's bouncing blonde curls to the kitchen.

Foster was standing with his arms crossed watching Angela intently who was stirring something over the stove while Danny set the table.

"Mummy," Charlotte said joyously running into the kitchen and jumping into Angela's arms. "Is the zarn-ya finished yet?"  
"Nearly," Angela said putting a dab of sauce on the tip of Charlotte's nose with the wooden spoon before putting her down.  
Charlotte let out a shriek of delight and darted her tongue out trying to lick it off.  
Angela's weak smile didn't reach her dead eyes.

"Well, if Agent Lisbon is doing the night shift, I should go," Foster said quietly taking his jacket off a stool.

"What? No. You can't go. You have to stay for dinner," Angela insisted.  
"Oh, yes Froster, stay for dinner!" Charlotte exclaimed happily, clapping her hands together.  
"I think I'd better go," Foster said.

"Please stay," Angela said softly. "We're having lasagne and I've made way too much as usual. It would really be the least I can do after everything you've helped us with."  
"See, Mummy wants you to stay," Charlotte was doing a tap dance of delight along the floorboards. "Teaser! Guess what? Froster is staying for dinner too!"  
"Jesus, Angela," said Foster under his breath, defeated. Lisbon smirked at how not even tough-surly-agent Foster was immune to Charlotte's charm.

Not five minutes later, the odd group was sitting around the dinner table.

Charlotte had become wriggly and giggly, almost as if they she was drunk.  
She seemed unable to sit still: she was sliding off her chair, constantly knocking cutlery on to the floor, and talked in high pitched, chipmunk voices over the top of people and getting told off by Angela.

Lisbon wasn't sure whether this was regular behaviour or Charlotte was doing this to entertain her given Lisbon was the one getting most of her attention.

Foster had his jaw clenched as if this dinner were some horrible medical procedure he had to endure.  
"What's for dessert, Mummy?" Charlotte asked. She was kicking the table leg rhythmically as she ate. "Maybe ice cream? Or I know, marshmallows!"

"What about marshmallows melted over ice cream?" Danny said to the little girl and Angela whacked his arm lightly. Lisbon silently agreed with her. The last thing this little girl needed was an overload of sugar.  
"You can _do_ that?" Charlotte said her eyes wide.  
"Of course," he said tweaking Charlotte's nose affectionately. "Your mother used to make it for me all the time at the carnival."  
"It was not all the time," Angela amended.  
"You grew up at a carnival?" Lisbon asked, intrigued.  
"Sure did," Danny replied enthusiastically. "Still do. All across the Midwest counties."  
"Lucky," Charlotte said fiddling with her fork and Angela pursed her lips and was silent for the rest of the evening. Lisbon could detect some kind of underlying story here but didn't have the energy to pursue it.

She was completely knackered and full of lasanga, marshmallows and ice cream when she slipped into her pyjamas later on and climbed into bed, it was only eight but she felt like she could sleep for hours after the horrendous night last night had been.

After tossing, turning and waking up each hour, Lisbon decided that there was no use trying to get to sleep. She was too overtired and felt too queasy to sleep. It was a horrible feeling.

She crept down the hallway and nearly tripped over some blocks. Maybe it would be convenient if she fell and banged her head again. Get rid of Jane-the-Pain.

Surprisingly, she wasn't the only person awake as the kitchen light was in and she discovered Danny sitting at the table cutting out what looked like admission tickets. He noticed her and held up the pot next to him. "Coffee?"  
"Love some," she said and he poured it into two mugs and handed her one.  
"Annie's all into tea," he wrinkled his nose and looked a lot like his sister and niece. "Never got into the stuff personally."  
"Neither," Lisbon replied, tipping the liquid gold into her mouth. "How bad are things around here, really?"

Danny shrugged and went back to his work. "It hasn't been easy. I swear, Charlotte is bipolar. She's all happy and cute and then something in her can just snap whether it's seeing a picture of Patrick or someone brushing her hair and she goes absolutely crazy. It scares the hell out of Annie."

"How is Angela coping?" Lisbon asked taking another sip.  
"She isn't," Danny sighed. "It's scary the way she looks sometimes. Like there's no point anymore. Like she's never going to be happy again. She's trying though, for Charlotte, but I can see it. I feel like she's fading. She doesn't read anymore or play her music. She doesn't watch T.V or listen to the radio. I suppose she's just trying to avoid any reminders…well, you know."

Lisbon didn't know but she could certainly understand how Angela would be doing all those things after losing the person she'd been in love with since she was a teenager.  
"Is there anything else I need to know about?"  
"Not a great deal," Danny said scratching his head. "Oh, except Angela's insulin, of course. She's always been really good with it but she's been distracted lately. Sometimes Foster and I have to remind her to have her injections. So you might need to keep an eye on that."

"Injections?"

"Yeah, she's diabetic," he explained. "A few weeks after…it happened…Angela was so distraught and out of it that she forgot and nearly went into diabetic coma. It was pretty serious. And another thing you should know is that Angela is sick all the time. Dizziness, nausea, vomiting…the works. So don't panic if she gets sick. Foster says it's probably just grief taking its toll on her body."

Lisbon noted this down carefully in her head.  
"Oh, and of course if you're working the night shift you should know about…."

He was cut off by a loud series of screams from upstairs. Lisbon had her hand on her gun ready to launch herself down the hall when Danny reached out and grabbed her wrist.  
"Don't freak, it's just the nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Lisbon said slowly recovering from the shock of the tortured sounds.  
"Yeah, you'll get used to it after a while. It's not as bad as it used to be."

"Wow, that's pretty intense," Lisbon said wondering how bad it used to be if this was _better_.  
"She used to have the worst night terrors as a kid," he explained. "I think they stopped when she left but…I guess they came back." He looked sad and tired as he rinsed his mug out.  
"You're a good brother," Lisbon told him. "Looking after them."  
"I'm really not compared to what Angela's done for me time and time again. She's gone through so much in her life so I just don't understand why…ah, it doesn't matter. I should get some sleep. Night, Lisbon."

Lisbon bade him a goodnight and ended up back in bed as well, trying to block out the pained moans and whimpers from Angela's bedroom next door. She felt terrible and guilty like she was intruding on Angela's private grief and nightmares.

"Hey," Jane said by the doorway. She couldn't see him very well but could make out his golden curls illuminated from the light they left on for Charlotte in the hallway.  
"Hi," Lisbon said tiredly.  
"Can I come in?"  
"Would you listen to me if I said no?"  
"Probably not," he smirked walking over and sitting on the end of her bed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Lisbon wasn't sure what to say. All the good natured banter seemed inappropriate.

"Do you miss them?" she asked quietly.  
"What?"  
"Is it...hard knowing that you won't be able to be with them? Being apart from them?"

"Yes," he said quietly. He was sitting where it was dark so Lisbon couldn't see his face to read his facial expression.  
"It is the second worst way that Red John could have punished me."

Lisbon wondered what the first one was but chose not to ask.  
"But I want them to be safe and happy. It's the only thing I've ever wanted. Both in my life and death."

"I can only guarantee safe," Lisbon said. She had no idea if it were even possible for Angela to ever be happy again.  
"That's what I asked you to do."  
"_Asked_?" Lisbon scoffed.  
Another scream echoed through the house and Jane winced painfully like he was being burned.

"Well, I should let you sleep," he said morosely.  
"What, no serenade tonight?" Lisbon said playfully trying to make him feel better.  
"No, you've been fairly cooperative."

She opened her mouth to ask where he was going when he stood up when it struck her that he was going to spend the night in Angela or Charlotte's room. She felt embarrassed that she had expected anything else.

"Goodnight, Lisbon," Jane said softly from the doorway. "Sleep well."  
"Night, Jane," she said snuggling into her pillow.

000

Over the next few days, Lisbon found herself getting closer to the Jane family and she knew it was unhealthy. It was dangerous as well, she knew, but it was inevitable like falling in love. That's exactly what had happened, she was falling in love with this family and it was only her first week.

Charlotte was by far the sweetest child that had lived and Lisbon's fridge in her apartment was now covered in finger paintings and crayon drawings.

She was feeling warmer towards Angela too. Helping make dinner, taking Charlotte to kindergarten and even helping plan Charlotte's fifth birthday party together. Quickly, Lisbon was developing a friendship with another female. Something she had never had before.

This made it even harder for Lisbon to stand Angela's depression which didn't seem to be getting any better. But her priority was their safety and it was just an added bonus if she finally ever managed to see Angela smile properly.

It was an especially rainy and cold night when Lisbon arrived on the Monday and Charlotte was already sound asleep in bed. She could tell as soon as she walked in and saw the look on Danny and Foster's faces as they sat in the lounge room that something was wrong. Lisbon went into the kitchen where Angela was sitting with her face in her hands. Father's Day was next week and Charlotte had dissolved into tears at school when all the other children were making cards and presents and even hit her teacher when she tried to touch her. Angela had come down at once and stayed in the backseat with Charlotte while Foster drove as she refused to let go of her mother and sobbed into her shirt from when she was picked up til when she had cried herself to sleep still in her arms four and a half hours later.

Lisbon's heart broke for little Charlotte and noticed how Angela's shirt was covered in patches of her daughter's tears and by the look on her face she had been crying too after Charlotte had fallen asleep.

"You go have shower," Lisbon said putting her hand on Angela's weak shoulder. Angela flinched slightly at her touch but didn't move away.  
"No, its fine I-"  
"No," Lisbon said sternly, willing to use force if necessary. "You're going to go have a shower and clear your head and then go to sleep."

Angela wasn't sure why but she felt compelled to listen to what Lisbon was saying and ended up in the shower while Lisbon prepared tea for the both of them (though coffee for herself most likely). She was unsuccessfully trying to unknot the tensed muscles in her shoulders when the light bulb flickered off and the water went icy cold moments later.  
_Of course, _she thought as she turned the tap off and stepped out into the cold air and wrapped the towel Lisbon had laid out around her.

"Teresa?" she called out, wringing the water out of her dark hair.  
"Yeah?" Lisbon said back from the kitchen.  
"Do you know where Danny put the candles in the bathroom?" she hoped she could get the house lit or the power was turned back on before Charlotte woke up in the dark.

"Um, I think he said the second drawer," Lisbon told her as she took the kettle off the stove.  
_It's taking Angela an awful long time_, Lisbon thought ten minutes later when the tea was laid out and waiting. She grabbed a torch from the kitchen cupboard and went down the hallway to the bathroom.

Jane had told her to develop an automatic tendency to expect the worst when it came to Angela. So Lisbon thought maybe she had fallen over, smacked her head on the soap dish and was bleeding from the head while her lungs filled up with water.

From Jane's stories, their marriage was littered with fractures, concussions, nosebleeds and an assortment of bumps and bruises. He always had to make sure that they had enough frozen peas packets in the freezer to get through the week when she would invariably find some way to wound herself simply by walking up the stairs.

Lisbon knocked on the bathroom door quietly.

"Angela, are you okay?"

No answer.

She opened the door which was thankfully unlocked just to make sure that she wasn't in fact bleeding from the head. Although what she did see was worse when the light of her torch fell on Angela.

She was sitting slumped against the wall unconscious, wrapped in her towel. She was sitting in a small puddle of blood, silver in the darkness, that was pulsing out of the two deep vicious gashes across both her wrists. A bloodied letter opener was held limply in her left hand.

"ANGELA!" she yelled and dropped the torch so it rolled around the tiled floor.  
"ANGELA! WAKE UP! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Lisbon panicked and dropped to her knees in the puddle of liquid, taking off her jumper and trying to stem the flow of blood from her wrists.

"DANNY! JANE! SOMEONE HELP ME!" Lisbon screamed as Angela's head lolled to the side as her face grew steadily more pale and lifeless.


	5. Chapter Four

**Hi all, sorry for the hiatus. For all readers of my other story **_**Only If For A Night, **_**that will be updated in the next few days. It's been a hectic month unfortunately. **

**NOW I JUST HAVE A QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT THAT I'M SUPER PROUD OF AND WILL ONLY TAKE A COUPLE SECONDS OF YOUR TIME: Most of you guys know Lily, the original and now co-author of this story and also my best friend in the whole world, has been unable to finish this story by herself. Last year she shattered two vertebrates when she was hit by a car and since then the recovery process has been very slow and exhausting for her but she's been making excellent progress. BUT TODAY LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS AMAZING GIRL WAS ABLE TO BREATHE BY HERSELF WITHOUT HER VENTILATOR FOR TWENTY MINUTES! I know for most for you, that doesn't seem like much of a big deal but it is in fact a massive step for her and she's my hero and I'm so proud of her and blessed to know her and…okay, I'll stop now before I start shouting from the rooftops how much I love her but yeah GO LILY, BABY! **

**Enjoy our chapter. **

"Back again!"

Lisbon looked up from having her head in her hands to see the smiley receptionist that had bade her goodbye the last time she was at the hospital for her head injury. Lisbon didn't reply but just looked incredulously at her. The woman handed her a polystyrene cup of coffee.

"You look terribly run down, sweetie," she said. "Best get some caffeine in you. Ground fresh this morning"  
Lisbon hesitantly took the cup and thanked her.  
"Just a pre-warning," a man in a dull suit said coming up to her when the lady left. "When they say ground this morning, they mean it. I think it was literally dirt this morning." He smiled at his own joke and Lisbon said determinedly icy and deadpan that would make Cho proud. If this man was going to attempt to flirt with her in this state…

"Sorry, tasteless humour in a place like this, Agent Robert Kirkland, Homeland security," he said more officially and snapping his badge open and putting it back in his jacket pocket. "You're Agent Lisbon, I presume?"  
"You'd presume correctly," Lisbon said not moving from her chair.  
"Terrible business this is, isn't it?" he said grimly.  
"Terrible, yes. But _my_ business nonetheless. I didn't realise Homeland security's jurisdiction also covered attempted suicides."  
"Oh, Red John has always been a…special interest…of our division. We like to keep in the loop as much as possible. Agent Minelli has given me full assurance of your cooperation," he said nonthreateningly and Lisbon wished he had so she could justify saying what she really wanted to.

She placed the cup on the magazine table beside her and stood up.  
"Well, sorry to disappoint you but there's nothing that would interest you in that matter here."  
She could feel the shaking of her hands that had been vigorously scrubbed in the hospital bathroom sink and folded her arms across her chest to hide them. Angela's blood was still noticeably stained on the hem of her sleeve.  
"Your concern for my time not being wasted is very touching but I think I'll stick around a little longer," Kirkland gave her a smile and walked off.

Lisbon was furious but still managed to compose herself.

She was dutifully answering questions for a doctor carrying a clipboard and a sombre expression when she heard a screeching noise from outside and looked up to see a black SUV flying into the car park, narrowly missing a telephone pole and mounting the curb. She saw Foster nearly swing the door off its hinges to get out.

"Lisbon," he growled his dark eyes boring into her green ones as he burst into the room. "Where's Angela? Is she okay?"  
"That's what we were just trying to determine," the pretty woman in the doctors coat said to him. "And you are?"

"Dr Miller, this is Agent Luke Foster, my colleague who works closely with the Jane family," Lisbon said and then turned to Foster. "Sophie Miller is going to be Angela's psychiatrist."  
"Psychiatrist?" Foster said narrowing his eyes at the doctor. "What happened?"

"I found her in the bathroom," Lisbon told him. "Foster…she cut her wrists."  
Foster just stared at Lisbon.

"I feel so guilty," she said collapsing into a chair and putting her fingers up to her forehead. "I should have seen it coming. She hasn't been getting any sleep and she's been nauseated all the time. I shouldn't have left her alone for so long."  
Foster wasn't interested in listening to Lisbon's self flogging.  
"I don't understand. Why would she do this?"

Dr Miller sighed. "It's a combination of factors: family history, stress, sleep deprivation, loss of a loved one. But we will start treatment immediately."  
Foster ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Charlotte and Danny?" Foster asked.  
"On their way," Lisbon told her. "I went with her in the ambulance and they were going to follow but I think they got stuck in traffic. Charlotte was asleep."

Lisbon was consumed with a strange guilt. She had lost people in her care before. Unfortunately these things happened but this felt different. She had promised Jane to keep his family safe. But she only had been thinking of protecting them from Red John, not themselves.

Jane was standing by Charlotte's doorway watching her sleep, restless because of the thunderstorm outside. When the power went out he was worried that she would wake up and be scared of the dark and even though it was stupid, thought his presence might comfort her in some way.

Lisbon had screamed for him to help her and his dead heart turned to ice and he knew that something was very, very wrong. When he got to the bathroom and saw his love on the floor covered in blood, he was certain that his nightmare had come true.

She was trying to keep Angela conscious and stem the flow of her bleeding that was spreading over her towel and the floor. Jane let out a cry of despair and fell to his knees and wanted so desperately to be able to help her. He tried to grab at Angela but his hand went right through her. Danny ran in looking half asleep but alarmed nonetheless.

"Oh my god!" he yelled. "What happened?"  
"SHE'S BLEEDING OUT!" Jane yelled back at him, pointlessly. "CALL AN AMBULANCE YOU DOCILE IDIOT!"  
Lisbon took her cell out of her pocket one-handed and slid it to Danny.  
"Call 9-1-1 and get an ambulance here, okay?" she said calmly, wrapping a second towel around Angela's hands. She was as pale as a sheet now and Jane was half sobbing, half screaming as he tried to help his wife. It broke Lisbon's heart into pieces and she wondered how Charlotte was sleeping through this until she remembered she was the only one who could hear him.

Lisbon's phone was sticky from her bloody hands and Danny fumbled in panic as he pushed the buttons shakily. When the operator asked for the address, he was in such shock he could barely make an audible sound. Lisbon calmly recited the address for him and his voice trembled uncontrollably as he repeated it into the receiver.

Lisbon noted he looked a little calmer as he came through the hospital doors carrying Charlotte who was sleeping on his shoulder with her bear nestled safely in her arms. Jane had disappeared and Lisbon presumed he was with Angela, wherever she was.

"Is she okay? Can we see her?" Danny quietly asked the doctor as soon as he spotted them.  
"She's stabilised and very weak but doing well," Dr Miller told him positively. "One at a time, maybe" she said. "And be very gentle, her condition is very unstable and we have to keep her vitals under control."

Danny passed Charlotte over to Lisbon and walked down the hallway to Angela's room. Jane was sitting beside Angela's bed, holding her hand. She couldn't feel his thumb caressing her palm and just kept staring at the cracks in the ceiling with a thoughtful expression.

"Hey Annie," Danny said from the door. "How you doing?"  
Jane stood up quickly before his brother-in-law could sit on him as he took the chair next to Angela.

"Hi trouble," Angela replied tiredly. "It feels like I've been on the spinning tea cup ride for hours. From the sedatives they gave me, I guess."  
"As long as you're not gonna puke like you usually did on that ride," Danny said treading carefully. "So, do you remember anything that happened?"  
"I don't know," Angela sighed closing her eyes and a little crease appeared between her eyebrows.

"Angela," he said, just nudging her fingertips, uncomfortably. "If you want to talk about things…"  
"No, dummy, I mean I literally don't know," Angela said opening her eyes to look at her brother. "I was looking for candles and then I…I don't know, I was here."  
Danny looked concerned and the expression was so infuriatingly uncharacteristic on her brothers face it made her roll her eyes.

"Daniel, we were raised by the biggest bunch of drama queens," Angela said. "If I was really going to check out early, don't you think I would've written the most dramatic, theatrical letter to leave behind? You know how many people I hate. Would I really give up the chance to tell them how much I despise them?"  
Danny smiled at this. "I guess so. Do you remember anything else?"

"I swear there was something else in the bathroom too," Angela said thoughtfully, averting her eyes back to the ceiling.  
"We didn't see anyone when we were in there," he countered. "It was just Lisbon, Charlie and I at the house."  
"I didn't see anyone either," Angela told him. "I could just _feel_…it doesn't matter. Is Charlotte okay?"

Jane left the room, shuddering at the thought and felt a surge of murderous rage course through him at someone hurting her. He had damn near killed a man for trying to hurt her some years ago so his emotions and frustration was amped.  
He glanced back at Danny. As much as he was irresponsible, immoral and a bit of a sociopath, he loved Angela and Patrick knew she'd be okay if he left her for a few minutes.

Lisbon was back in her chair, her face pale while she held a cup of cold, untouched coffee. Charlotte was playing with toys in the corner being told that her mother had fallen over in the shower and hurt herself but not too much to worry.  
"Hi," Jane said sitting next to her.  
Lisbon jumped at his voice and looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed her involuntary action. The last thing she need was to get herself admitted. She stood up and made it seem like she was watching over Charlotte so they could talk.

"Are you okay?" she asked him quietly.  
"No," he admitted. "You?"  
"No."

"Don't blame yourself," Jane told her after a few minutes of silence.  
"It's hard not to," Lisbon said. "I promised you I'd keep them safe."

"I know you can't keep an eye on her every single second, I should have been watching her," Jane said sadly. "I'm just glad she's okay."

"Yeah, I should've noticed that something was up," Lisbon sighed taking a sip of her cold coffee and grimacing.

"You couldn't have known that someone was in the bathroom," Jane reassured her. "We just need to be more careful from now on. I don't plan on giving whoever did this a second chance at hurting her."

Lisbon stared at Jane, confused. "Jane…Angela did this herself."  
"I know my wife, Lisbon," Jane said confidently. "She would never do something like that."

"She's a different person now, Jane," Lisbon told him. "She's depressed and grieving. It changes people."  
"Not Angela," Jane said shaking his head. "She loves Charlotte too much to ever hurt her that way."

Lisbon sighed. He was clearly in denial and she was too tired to argue with him. She changed the subject.

"I better take Charlotte home and get started," she said. "This situation is going to have stacks of paperwork attached to it."

Jane narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sorry that Angela nearly bleeding to death is such an inconvenience to you."

Lisbon stared shocked and tripped on her words in a haste to get them out. "Jane, I'm sorry, I didn't mean.."  
"I'm just playing with you," he smiled though it didn't reach his eyes with were still filled with bloodlust and rage.

Lisbon exhaled loudly. "That's not funny."  
"It will be when you think about it in five years time."

"I'll take your word for that," she said and picked up her bag.  
"Are you staying?" she asked already knowing the answer, he wouldn't leave Angela out of his sight after this.

Jane nodded not taking his eyes off Charlotte.  
He heard Lisbon sigh softly and Danny came out and picked up his niece. When they had gone, Jane slipped back into Angela's room where Foster also was now watching her. "Oh, this one," Jane said distastefully. He was used to men being interested in his wife. It went both ways too. Women would fawn over him shamelessly when he was alive even and sometimes especially after finding out he was married. It had never been a concern for either of them being still so infatuated with each other. But _Foster_? He just got a bad feeling about him and even more so because Jane knew he could do little to protect her against men now.

Angela was sleeping more soundly than she had for weeks, Jane noticed. Her little frown was gone and her lips were parted slightly as she breathed slowly. She looked beautiful and peacefully and much more like her usual self.

Foster reached out and gently touched Angela's hand. Jane exhaled through his nose and clenched his fist.  
Angela _clearly_ didn't want him to touch her while she was awake so it was unfair to do so while she was asleep and unable to move her hand away. Foster stood up as a man dressed in a grey suit with a white doctor's coat came in. Jane noted this odd attire.

"Excuse me," he said to the young man. "But it is time for Mrs Jane's medication, if you don't mind..."

Foster just nodded but didn't leave.  
"In case you can't take a hint," Jane said reclaiming his chair. "That means clear off!"

"Are you Mrs Jane's spouse?" the doctor asked.  
"He wishes," Jane muttered. Foster shook his head slowly.  
"Then I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside."

"Yeah, only spouses allowed," Jane said childishly, glad that Lisbon wasn't here to roll her eyes or shake her head at his immaturity. The man shook Angela's arm lightly to see if she would wake but she barely stirred.  
"Hey, watch it!" Jane yelled standing up when the doctor stabbed the syringe into Angela's arm and she winced slightly in her sleep.

When he was alive, he had the annoying habit of treating Angela like glass, making the biggest fuss about every scratch or bruise she acquired. It upset him now when people were less than gentle with her and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

The man rolled her sleeve back down and left while Jane sat contently watching his wife's little sleepy movements. He heard Foster come back into the room.  
"Why can't you just oh, I don't know, jump in front of a bus?" Jane asked him in a polite voice.

Unlike Jane, Angela was enjoying herself. She was having a very pleasant dream, something lovely and normal that reminded her of nothing. She couldn't grasp what her dream was about or if she was even having one but she felt perfectly at peace. Then something dark and ominous seeped into her dream and she could feel panic bubble in her stomach.

She looked down and saw Charlotte lying on the floor, smiling at her. There was spaghetti sauce on her nose.  
Angela smiled back and for once, it didn't hurt.

"What are you doing down there, sweetheart?" Angela asked.  
"It's Fathers Day, Mummy," Charlotte said sadly and then her eyes filled with tears. Angela bent down to comfort her.  
"It's okay, honey." But when Angela took Charlotte in her arms, Charlotte screamed and shrieked like she was being set on fire and started twitching.

"Charlotte?" Angela said and gasped when she noticed it wasn't spaghetti sauce on Charlotte's nose. It was blood.  
And it wasn't just on her nose. It was in her hair, all over her clothes, her face, her little body. All over her husband.

Charlotte stopped trembling in Angela's arms and froze. Angela looked back at her little girl and stared into her dead, lifeless eyes and then up at the smiley face on the wall.

Jane had no idea what to do. Angela was practically having a seizure. One moment he was looking at her serene face, beautiful in his calmness and now it was screwed up in what looked like unbearable agony. Her body convulsed and she screamed his name.

"I'm right here," Jane said soothingly, patting her hand forgetting that she couldn't hear or feel him.  
"Angela?" Foster said unsurely reaching out and taking her other arm. She screamed in response to his hold.  
"DON'T-TOUCH-HER!" Jane yelled.

Angela's eyes which had been shut tightly, opened and her pupils were wide and her eyes beyond reason as she screamed and thrashed against her pillow. One of the machines beeped in the background.

Dr Miller came in, flanked by four other doctors who held Angela's limbs tightly against the bed. They injected another syringe into her like she was some kind of human pin cushion.

Angela's screaming lessened but she continued to fight weakly against the men that held her and eventually succumbed to the sedative.

Jane was in shock. He had never seen her like that. And worse, he couldn't help her. He had to sit back and watch while something tortured his beloved Angela. It was worse than her nightmares, which were agony enough for him.

"Orderly!" Dr Miller said. "Please take Mrs Jane upstairs and put her on alert and make sure she is comfortable, please."

Jane had his forehead pressed to the cold glass of the window hours later as he watched Angela sleep on the other side. It was a tiny observation window now, in a locked room. The room was empty except for the bed which she lay on. Her wrists and ankles were now tied up.

Danny stood beside him.  
Both men watched her intently until Dr Miller interrupted them.

"Daniel, isn't it?"  
"Yes," he said coldly. Psychiatrists and carnie folk weren't the best mix.  
"I am sad to see such a young vibrant woman with so much potential in this state," she said. "I am determined to treat this illness aggressively."

"Thanks but I have it under control," he said dismissively.

"Mr Ruskin," Dr Miller said, looking at Angela as well. "This is a general hospital. I'm sure if Angela had a concussion, they would certainly have the situation under control. But an illness like this requires diligent and unwavering therapy from delicate and more specialised doctors with the best facilities. It is her best chance at recovery."

Danny and Jane froze at the same time. Neither of them liked the sound of that.

"You're moving her?" Danny growled, his fists balled up by his sides. "Moving my sister where, may I ask?!"  
"Northside Hospital. The ambulance is ready to go. She won't wake up til she arrives."

"Northside?" Jane said angrily. "Not Northside _Mental Hospital_?"

"My sister doesn't belong in there," Danny said in an equally angry tone.  
While they argued, Jane looked back at his wife, who looked so peaceful and lovely in her deep sleep. It pained him to see her wrists so harshly bound like that. They were probably hurting her. The doctor walked off and Jane saw Danny scan the corridor before glancing back into Angela's room. He had that _plotting_ look about him that most carnies had. Danny's face was a picture of indecision but when he looked back at Angela, his mind was made up. Jane followed his eyes and it dawned on him what Danny was planning and couldn't help but feel proud of his younger brother-in-law.

He was certain Lisbon would kill Danny for what he was about to do. Jane could already hear her angry voice hissing: _"What the hell are you doing?"_

000

_"What the hell are you doing?"_ Lisbon shrieked rounding on Danny. She had opened her apartment door to find Danny with Angela in his arms. "Why is she here?!"

Danny carefully laid his unconscious sister down on her bed while Jane looked on with approval. "Shh! You'll wake her up!"

"Don't ever tell me to _shhh_, Ruskin. Tell me why she isn't at the hospital?"  
"They wanted to transfer her to Northside," Danny told her. "You just have to hide her here for a little while."  
Lisbon sighed and walked over to them, plonking herself down at the end of the bed.

"Danny, I know this must be really tough for you to deal with. But Angela is very sick and she needs professional help."  
"I don't want no marks poking around my sisters brain!" he said. "They're good for nothing suckers, those psych doctor types."  
"That's not really your call to make! Now put her back before I arrest you for-"

Angela stirred and her eyes fluttered open as she sat up quickly.  
"Now you've done it," Jane muttered at the pair of them.  
"Lisbon?" Angela said, confused as she looked around the unfamiliar open room.

"Hey," Lisbon said softy which was difficult considering how on edge she was. "How are you feeling?"  
"Like someone's drilling a hole through my skull," Angela said pushing her palms against her temples and lying back down.  
"I think I've got some paracetamol somewhere," Lisbon smiled warmly and then turned to Danny. "Can you not do anything illegal or crazy for two minutes?!" she hissed warningly.

Lisbon went to the bathroom and filled up a glass of water and rummaged through her medicine drawer until she found the tiny box of pills. She heard Jane come up behind her.

"Lisbon, I have a theory that you might be interested-"  
"Wait your turn," Lisbon snapped holding her hand up. "How did Angela get out of her restraints at the hospital?"  
"How did you know she was in restraints?" Jane asked curiously.  
"Foster called from the house."  
"Of course, he did," Jane muttered. Foster. Bloody Foster.

"You have five seconds to answer before I call Dr Miller and have Danny hauled off in handcuffs," Lisbon said.  
"And tell her what? That her brother and the spirit of Angela's dead husband stole her from the hospital and brought her to your apartment. Yes, Dr Miller would have a field day with that."

"JANE!" she yelled and then remembered the company in the next room and hushed her tone.

"Sorry, sorry," he said putting his hands up. "Danny's old carnival Houdini act may not be as sophisticated as most but I assure you any carnie alumni is more than capable of picking a lock and smuggling anything out of anywhere."

He smiled at Lisbon as if he expected praise for this accomplishment on Danny's behalf. She folded her arms across her chest and huffed.  
"Did anyone see him?" Lisbon asked.  
"No."

Lisbon sighed. "That's a start then. Now what's your theory?"

"There was this doctor or nurse at the hospital. Really creepy. He injected Angela with something and she went crazy not long after. That's when Miller called Northside."

"Jane, I can't arrest someone under suspicious of being creepy," she sighed. "I know you don't want to believe that Angela..."  
"Lisbon, please," Jane said. "Just look into it for me."  
"I'm not going to investigate some medical personnel just because he gave Angela a needle and doing his job. There's no way…"

"_SING ME TO SLEEP!  
SING ME TO SLEEP!  
I'M TIRED AND I…"_

"For God's sake!" Lisbon hissed over the top of him. "Is that going to be your way of getting everything you want from me?"

"Well, I could always revert back to calling you by your endearing nicknames but I thought I'd spice things up tonight."

Lisbon groaned. "Fine. I'll have Angela take this medicine and then I'll look into, you fiend! Did you manage to get a name?"

"He introduced himself as Robert to Foster but that's all I caught."  
"Kirkland?" Lisbon asked her heart sinking.  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
"I'll be right back."

Lisbon phoned Cho to send her any information about the Homeland security agent that he could dig up. Why he was impersonating a doctor was truly beyond her but she could only assume it was for bad reasons and she started to feel a little guilty at how sceptical she had been towards Danny and Jane. Something certainly didn't add up.

"Well, he certainly has a vested interest in Red John," Lisbon sighed flipping her phone shut and waiting at her computer for the results as Jane paced behind her. She typed his name into her search engine while she waited to see if any results showed up.

"This article is from nine years ago. Student Robert Kirkland, psychology graduate gave a controversial speech at a euthanasia conference. He was supportive of the making it available to the terminally ill and elderly having the right to end their life peacefully. But he also went as far as supporting it for people of all ages suffering from depression, PTS, lots of things…" she read. "Looks like his ideas were too radical and he was ditched from the program and studied counter-terrorism and policing instead."

"I wonder if torturing and murdering women was another line of study he engaged in," Jane said bitterly.  
"I admit that something isn't quite right but Kirkland being Red John? I don't know…Oh, Cho's emails come through."  
She clicked through the pages, scanning them for anything suspicious.

"Well, for someone who is interested in the Red John murders, he hasn't been present at any of the crime scene investigations or logged in at the morgue to view any of the victims…"  
"Strange. How long has he been working for Homeland security?" Jane asked.  
"Three years."  
"What about witnesses or suspects in Red John cases? Have any died shortly after the murder or in custody?"

Lisbon took a moment to type. "Certainly some have been killed by Red John for relaying or planning to relay information to us but those murders are quite obvious. There have been seven related deaths that were deemed unsuspicious causes. Cardiac arrest, suicide, seizures…"  
"All of them Red John targets and all of them coincidentally occurring in the past three years."  
"But none of those deaths were Red Johns signature."  
"No, but perhaps they're Kirkland's," Jane said more to himself as he saw Kirkland's home address on the screen. "I'm going to go see what I can find at his house. Can you look after Angela?"

Lisbon nodded and was about to say 'be careful' until she realised how utterly ridiculous it sounded.  
She stood up and went over into her room where Angela was sitting up and picking at the bandages on her wrist.

"Hey," Lisbon said sitting next to her.  
"Hi Teresa," Angela said. "Danny's gone to be with Charlotte and Luke at the house."  
"How you holding up?"  
"Apart from everyone removing all the ropes, sharp objects, pills and alcohol within a five mile radius of myself, I'm doing fine." She tried to sound sarcastic but she was frustrated at how teary her voice had come out sounding.

"Angela, I found you bleeding on your bathroom floor, there was a letter opener in your hand. You have to understand what it looks like to people."

"I know," Angela said, running her fingers through her dark hair. "I can't tell you why but I would never try to kill myself. I would never do that to Charlotte. Not after…" her voice trailed off.

Lisbon just sat in silence and waited for Jane to get back when the doorbell rang.  
She froze; maybe it was someone from the hospital looking for Angela.  
Goodness, would Lisbon be arrested for kidnapping a patient? Minelli would skin her.

She went to the door and her heart thundered in fear when she looked through her peephole and saw a police badge. Crap.

Lisbon swung open the door and her heart turned to ice when she saw it was Kirkland. She composed herself and leaned against the doorframe casually.  
"Agent Kirkland, I didn't think we had anything more to follow up on? Certainly not at my home residence anyway, this is very unprofessional."

"Sorry, Agent Lisbon," he smiled. "But rest assured, I'm here for business. Though I'm surprised you're here at all."  
"Oh?"  
"Your girl's been reported missing from the hospital. I thought you and your other little assistant would be running about trying to find her."

"I just got the call," Lisbon said coolly. "She's probably just wandered off. I was about to go look for her myself, actually. She could be a danger to herself and others with the state she is in."  
"I don't think that's what you should be worried about," Kirkland said icily.  
"Excuse me?"  
"If Red John finds her, which he will, you're going to wish she died in the hospital."

"Well, that's definitely something to keep in mind," Lisbon said quickly but nervously. "I'll make sure you're notified if you wish when we find her…"  
She moved to shut the door but he blocked it with his foot.  
Lisbon felt the uncomfortable tip of something round and metal pressing against her abdomen and was too terrified to look down.

"Agent Lisbon," Kirkland said softly. "I don't believe you understand how perilous the situation you've found yourself in is. Now please take me to Angela Jane, or I will regrettably have to incapacitate you and then go collect her myself."

Angela was sitting on the bed, playing with the baggy shape of her hospital shirt. She was still confused as to how and why she was here. She wanted to ask Lisbon but was too terrified that she would be taken back to that awful place with the horrible dreams.

Lisbon walked in a moment later, her face pale but her eyes cautious as she looked at Angela.  
"Angela, everything's going to be okay, alright?"

A man followed her into the room. Angela recognised him as a person at the hospital who kept staring at her while she pretended to sleep. Lisbon's hands were raised slightly and Angela knew that the man had threatened her. Luckily, she couldn't see any injuries.

"Teresa," Angela said quietly. "What's going on? Are you okay?"  
Kirkland deposited the gun back into his holster and smiled warmly at her. Lisbon watched in helpless fear as he pulled some cable ties out of his pocket and tied her wrists up. Her gun was on the kitchen table and there was no way she could get it.  
She begged that Jane got here soon. But even then, what could he do?

Kirkland walked over to Angela while Lisbon watched in horror as he gently lifted her bandaged wrists and bound them with the cable ties apologetically.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart. He's not going to hurt you. It will be peaceful and painless," he knelt down beside her and stroked her hair and then her cheek. "I'm here to make you stop hurting. I'm going to make it all go away."

**We hope you like our take on Robert Kirkland and there are plenty more twists to come. Please review your thoughts and comments if you have the time. Thank you, lovelies! **


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